It has been what feels like forever.
We're dying.
I'm dying.
I can't get up without holding onto the walls.
I'm not ready to die.
Do something!
For once, I ignore it.
And I close my eyes.
While letting the buzz poison my mind one last time.
YOU ARE READING
Static
Poetrya short story in which a person attempts to survive with its own controlling antagonist. - this is my first time writing a book. i would really appreciate constructive criticism. leave a comment and vote; whatever you want. - lowercase intended -
